Holding On
by VoiDreamer
Summary: Quinn had known she was trouble from the moment he met her on Balmora. But not even he could have imagined how she would change his world forever. A collection of little one-shots about Quinn and the woman who even in the midst of betrayal made him hold on to the promise of a future by her side. *Quinn/F!Warrior*
1. 01 - From the Dark

AN: Hello lovely SWTOR fans! This is a little collection of loosely connected stories about everyone's favorite Imperial and the woman he followed around space. I'm not sure how quickly this will update - but each chapter can stand alone as sort of 'mini stories' that embellish individual events.

As a warning - these WILL contain spoilers for the game, so read at your own risk.

I'll be starting this one with what happens after the betrayal aboard the ship as viewed through Quinn's eyes.

Enjoy!

~Voi

* * *

Malavai Quinn woke up and that, in and of itself, was a bitter surprise. What was living but having to bear the consequences of his most malicious actions?

He had betrayed her.

The knowledge was as much evident to his mind as it was displayed, exemplified, in the bruising of his throat.

_She _had done that.

Swallowing against the memory only made his throat ache all the more fiercely. He deserved her anger, that he could understand; but he wasn't sure if he could survive the terrible burden that came with her mercy.

Maybe that was the point.

The door behind him opened with a soft hiss, and with it came the awareness of his surroundings. He was in his own room. Thinking back on it now, it dawned on him that it had been weeks…maybe even months since he had actually spent time in the room for any reason, never mind to sleep in his own bed.

"You're a real bastard aren't you?" The voice was one he recognized immediately, feminine but not _her. _

"I have to say you had me fooled…behind all that stick-up-your-ass manners you're just as bad as the rest of them, aren't you?

He struggled into a sitting position, wheezing as his chest and throat burned. And though he had grown to know the ex-slave's particular more complex expressions, the look that greeted him was open, simple, undiluted hostility.

Swallowing Quinn spoke carefully, his voice low in the dark, "Hello, Vette."

"Don't 'Hello, Vette' me!" The young twi'lek growled as she got a good look at him, her face flushed with anger, "You don't get to condescend to me after what you did. _She _might have spared you and kept the rest of the crew in the dark, but _I _know better!"

No she didn't.

Strange that Quinn's razor sharp mind could still work so well when the rest of him remained broken. Watching the scarlet on her face, he mentally chided the girl's emotional tirade. She was bluffing, of that there was no doubt. There was no way their Sith lord had mentioned a single word of what had transpired aboard that ship.

"Jurhe hasn't breathed so much a word to you." The words were out of his mouth before he had the better sense to shut up, to keep his thoughts to himself, "You are nothing if not an awful liar, Vette."

The blow across his face was thus entirely expected, though the force of it was a surprise. Crashing against the unforgiving surface of the ships' wall, Quinn felt the pain flare, his stomach twist in agony.

"Assholes like you don't get to use her name, _Captain_." The twi'lek made his title an insult, a slur. And the longer she stood over him the more he realized just how angry she was, how much she shook in all-encompassing rage.

"I know it might be hard for you to get through your head," Vetter said, her voice low, tone vicious, "But you're not the only one who cares about her."

And though there was doubtlessly more that she wanted to say, to _yell, _the doors to his room opened a second time. Filling the dimness with light, Quinn didn't have to see the silhouetted figure in the doorway to know who it was.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Her voice echoed ominously in the sudden stark quiet. Low and seductive, the words smoothed over frayed nerves like velvet, and yet his stomach clenched in emotion, in _fear_.

"Come along, Vette. Your sister has sent you a message."

Swallowing hard, the young twi'lek turned her attention from Imperial to sith, "I've already read it…" she replied quietly though her protestation was for naught. One look at the woman they called leader and the young girl was already walking through the door, disappearing down the hall without another word.

There were some lines that even best friends did not cross.

And in the dark of the room the silence grew, swelled until, like a physical presence, it threatened to suffocate him, to finish what _she _had been unwilling to do.

"Permission to speak plainly, my lord?"

His voice was weak from the injuries but carried easily in that stone-cold silence.

"You are always allowed to speak as you wish, Captain." Her voice cut with its softness, with its soothing accommodation and lack of temper. And though she had never given reason for him to fear her, he shuddered now, shook because of the seething void she had fittingly exiled him to.

Cold control over hot passions.

Truly she had always been the strangest Sith he had ever had the chance to meet. The strangest and the most compelling. He swore his chest ached in the twin sensations of love and fierce shame.

"My lord, I wish to know what work-what job - you would have me perform."

The silence that followed stung, but was not more than he deserved.

"My lord?"

There was a sharp inhalation before she crossed the room, to stand at his bedside. And though he had known his droids had hurt her, that _he _had hurt her, the expression on her face, the devastation was more than he had expected. More than he had ever thought to be responsible for.

"You will continue to serve aboard this ship as its Captain and navigator. Strategic planning is now to be my sole responsibility, and…"

She bowed her head for a moment, face falling to shadow so that Quinn could not see her expression.

"You will remain by my side on missions, as my support on the field."

Her words came as a total surprise, baffled him as surely as his realization that he was alive. "My lord?"

Opening his mouth to continue, he paused as she raised a hand, halting him immediately.

"Only on the battlefield." Her voice was firm, controlled, but her hand shook as she held it between them, "You were provided these quarters when I first accepted your help. Use them."

And because it there was still too much between them, she turned on her heel and left, the doors closing near-silently behind her, the cloak around her shoulder's whispering as they brushed the ground.

"Get better soon, Captain."

She left him in the impenetrable silence of his room, and though she had moved so quietly away, her voice echoed loudly in the dark. With every repetition her voice, her words, tore his heart that much deeper, until slowly, ever so slowly, his heart began to represent her own.

It was unlikely he would be able to understand the full damage of his betrayal, but as he stared in to the blank darkness every breath sent him backwards in time until he came to the very beginning of what had been an extraordinary journey.

Every breath backwards to remind him of just how much he had destroyed with his single choice.


	2. 02 - From the First

AN: Thanks to all who responded and read this fic! Here's the next chapter about the very first meeting between Sith and Imperial Officer!

Enjoy!

~Voi

* * *

It was still dark when Quinn woke, the curtains obliterating any trace of the too-bright morning sky. Matte grey as was his preference, the fabric was unobtrusive and functional, the embodiment of the man who had chosen them.

Balmora never had been his choice, but _this _at least was his.

The room bore his unique signature in the Spartan furniture and lack of personal belongings. Books were carefully lined on their shelves, and reports were stacked properly awaiting his attention at his personal terminal. He had languished here for years and yet had managed to collect not one item he might consider personal.

Until now.

There was one thing distinctly _out _of place in his room, and as he turned to glance across the space the blue glow of his workstation illuminated the body, the woman, that lay in his bed.

Nude beneath the soft blankets, Quinn eyed the woman with a distant, appraising, eye. Soft, luxurious hair, her figure an elegant product of sloping lines, he could certainly appreciate that she was the sort of woman who possessed an intriguing, if not exactly conventional, beauty. It was her hair, he mused as he followed the silken mass as it flowed over her body like water; he had always had a thing for long hair.

She had been friendly enough the night before as she had talked him up at the local bar, a sly smile that mixed well with her dry humor. But while she had been very pleasant, one night was not enough to know all there was, and even now there remained a part of her that remained elusive and out of reach.

On Balmora such things should have made him cautious, made him wary. And so it was his most spectacular mistake to have brought her back to his apartment.

But damn if he hadn't been living the past several years in quiet desperation.

Balmora was his prison, the very walls of his room a cage that fueled a rage that burned so fiercely that no amount of time could bank it with any effectiveness. His ambition had stalled, but his anger had remained, as had the iron-clad control he used to rule his life.

At least, until last night.

He moved silently to the sink, running the tap until the water filled his hands to overflowing.

Damn it all.

He inhaled sharply as the water made contact with his skin, jolting him those final few inches into awareness. Dripping down the side of his face, the strong angle of his jaw and long the strong muscles of his neck and shoulders, he didn't bother wiping the water from his hair as he crossed the room again in search of a shirt.

Beneath his feet the floor remained solid, cushioning his movement until the very last step.

"Mmm…"

There was a soft feminine chuckle, from his bed, followed by a slow groan of pleasure as she woke, "Good morning, Lieutenant."

"Jurhe." He spoke her name with courtesy, despite the increasing discomfort he felt at her presence.

Sighing loudly, the young woman arched provocatively, the sheet slipping from her body, her hair tumbling around her as she rolled to look at him. Mused as she was, there was no denying the way his body thrummed in the memory of their coupling despite the tension that had risen with his morning's return to clarity.

"Busy morning?" She asked idly, eyeing him in a way that seemed to entirely mirror his own earlier expression. The sensual woman he had spent the night momentarily replaced by an analytical _something _that made his instincts blare in warning.

"Very."

He nodded at her absently as he pulled on his shirt, began to button it up one at a time.

Not bothering to cover herself, his lover rose from his bed and began to dress as well. Donning a nondescript gown, she had her hair neatly tied and tucked away by the time he finished fitting the buttons of his coat.

Strange, but he wouldn't have pegged her for the efficient type.

"I-"

Years of doing without had made him clumsy with women, and he didn't quite know how to ask her to leave, to never come back and forget his moment of weakness, no matter how very memorable their evening had been.

"Relax, Lieutenant. I'm going."

She stood before him, expression amused as she seemingly read his mind as easily as any book. Tucking a stray hair behind her ear, she tilted her head to give him one last appraising look before turning towards the door. Hand made to grasp the handle, she hesitated, pausing, before her eyes slid back to lock with his own startled ones. He felt her hands on his shoulders a split second before he made contact with the wall, the back of his head connecting with the wall as she pressed herself against him and fixed her mouth against his own.

The kiss itself was sudden and very brief, a sizzling meeting of mouths and the momentary flash of remembered passion. Exhaling slowly as she pulled away, Quinn felt his cheeks flush at the satisfied look on her face, and the way she seemed to know exactly what to do to keep him unbalanced.

"I'll see you later, Quinn."

She opened the door not a moment later, a smile on her lips as she gave him a mock salute. And then she disappeared down the hallway, her softly swaying figure drawing more than a little attention as she passed out of his life for what he assumed was forever.

He was in his office not an hour later, finalizing the details for another mindless operation while awaiting Darth Baras' long promised apprentice. But it seemed she was a punctual animal indeed, for it was precisely at the top of the hour that he felt the pressure of her presence enter the room, muffled because he was not force-sensitive, he could still feel the overwhelming reservoir of power as it rolled through the building.

"Apprentice, good of you to join us."

The Sith Lord appeared on the Holoterminal in a flash of blue static, but Quinn's eyes were stuck on the woman who stood framed in the door way. "This is…"

"Lieutenant Malavai Quinn." The voice spoke his title with amusement, familiar only because he had spent the entire night listening to her rich voice.

The Sith.

Juhre.

Lord Baras had not bothered to tell him more than the barest details of his apprentice, and years of working together had taught him not to ask for too many details. He had never thought to question or ask for more information. It was then this most unfortunate oversight that left him speechless.

"Good morning, Lieutenant." Lips quirked into a smile, the corner raised ever so slightly in amusement, the Sith slipped her hand into his and gave it a warm squeeze, "Nice of you to brief me on the climate here on Balmora last night, _very _insightful."

Her eyes were hot as she stared up at him, and there was no denying the memory of those sensual lips, the memories that arose so readily at her barest suggestion. But they were hardly alone, and between the Sith Lord and scowling twi'lek companion that Juhre had brought with her, it was clear they would have to have this conversation at a different time.

"You and the Lieutenant have met already? Excellent."

The rest of the meeting and ensuing mission run-down passed by in a blur, and it was only when she was about to leave that he scrapped some semblance of control together to follow her to the door.

"My lord…"He began but stopped when he saw the look in her eye.

Caught in the Balmoran sunshine, Juhre's hair and eyes glinted with feverish purpose. This was not the woman who had stayed the night in his bed, and he knew that to survive he must act accordingly. But as he took a step back, turned to leave, a hand wrapped around his arm and squeezed ever to so gently.

"That's not what you called me last night, Quinn." Her breath whispered warmly on his neck, "I believe I told you to call me by name."

And though he couldn't see her expression as she turned to go, there was no missing the impish delight in her voice as she chided him a final time.

"Do _try _and keep up, Lieutenant."


	3. 03 - From Across the Bar

AN: Hello All! I apologize for taking so long with this. I will keep updating as I get ideas, but this may cause some very sporadic updating to say the least.

That being said, I have loved hearing from everyone and was so pleased to get such a positive response with the last chapter - please feel free to email me with prompts you would like me to explore as we go on this fun little adventure together. I have a general idea of what sort of little plot moments I'd like to detail but the more merrier :)

Thanks again for all your support - you have all been wonderful.

I hope you enjoy!

~ Voi

* * *

It was his eyes that intrigued her most.

Her lips curled into a smile, as she glanced at him from where she was seated. He was so very proper, her Imperial Captain, mindful of protocol and rules that the Sith had little use for. Even now he acted as if that night had never happened, as if they had not surrendered control and found the chaotic power that came with being with another person. His eyes had been so expressive then, now they remained so collected it was near unbearable.

Except that it was almost like he didn't see what she was doing at all, and _that_ made it interesting, intriguing even.

He might now know it yet, but she was a picky woman, had very particular tastes and he was one of only a handful that had ever intrigued her enough to spend the time.

And she wanted to know him, understand him better than even interesting little Vette, with her twi'lek anger and desire for a family. It was intoxicating to know someone better than they knew themselves, and the compulsion to do just that left her near delirious with wanting.

It was this trait Baras had found of particularly pleasing, her near desperate need to understand and dissect. Power and anger were things many Sith apprentices had in some meaningful measure, but to apply just the right force to make someone do as willed was a power all its own.

Perhaps that was why she found Nar Shaddaa so ideal. A planet full of people who so willingly exposed their lives for a few hours of forgetfulness, to gorge themselves on alcohol, sex and anything else that money could buy.

Perfection incarnate.

Exhaling slowly as her mouth curled into a smile, Jurhe surveyed the room for the hundredth time. Taking a long, lazy sip of her drink, she turned her attention back to her Captain and grinned all the wider. She found his displeasure of Nar Shaddaa amusing, absolutely fascinating actually since he had seemed so very comfortable at the bar back on Balmora.

"Something on your mind, Captain?" She settled her delicate glass on the table, "You haven't stopped frowning since we arrived. How are we ever going to get information if you keep looking like you stepped in the remnants of a Hutt's dinner?"

His whole body turned as he turned to look at her, eyes focusing on her with the undivided attention he gave to those of her caste. It would have been flattering if he didn't look at Baras with that exact same dedication.

Jurhe didn't really enjoy being jealous but neither could she say she had experienced it much before. Thus the sensation was novel, at least right now.

"I apologize, my lord, it was not my intent to put you at a disadvantage. Perhaps…"He stopped himself short, "Permission to speak freely, my lord."

"You need never ask for permission, Quinn. Just say what is on your mind. Though I am curious…"

Jurhe frowned as the question dawned on her. And because she was Sith, with all the impulsive nature and brazen honesty of one, she asked, "Was it your mother or your father that instilled such a sense of duty?"

Eyeing him with frank curiosity, the young Sith watched him from her place, "It really is quite extraordinary."

"It was my father, my lord." Looking distinctly uncomfortable, Quinn answered the question as succinctly as possible.

"Rymar Quinn, of course, makes sense." saying the name aloud, the young sith smiled as her companion jumped in surprise at the name, at her knowledge. It was amusing to see his honest expression a split second before he wrested it back under his control.

"He died rather young though, didn't he?" Half talking to herself, half talking to the drink in front of her, it seemed for a moment as if Quinn wasn't there at all.

"Young but left an impression. An Imperial Colonel with the last name Quinn…I do believe I remember mother mentioning him once. I really should ask her again…" Humming to herself, Jurhe turned to look down at her robes, her pockets, as she fished about for her holocommunicator.

"Mother does know everything about everyone. Always with the files…and files…and files."

It was always fun getting in contact with mother, fun and a little disconcerting because the woman always knew the who, what and where of her latest mission. Growing up it had been impossible to get away with anything, and so Jurhe had learned to be nothing if not completely honest. It saved time on scolding and punishment.

It also meant that she punished traitors and those that dealt in betrayal with a single minded ruthlessness that elevated her cruelty to whole new levels of icy terror. The Lady Gratham and her son had learned that the hard way when they sent assassins to take care of her in the hangar bay.

She could still hear the woman's screams as she had disemboweled them both. It had been a very long time since she had done that, and part of her almost wished it happened more often.

Tapping in the proper code to link up, Jurhe barely had time to set down her drink before the comm flickered to life and her mother's image materialized between the two of them.

A regal woman who was only now beginning to show the signs of age, she bore herself with an unquestionable strength and a directness that was easily echoed in her daughter.

Dressed in the long robes of a diplomat, she had looked around for only a moment before she addressed her daughter with a briskness that bellied a lifetime of giving orders.

"First thing first, Darling. Get us somewhere secure will you?" Glancing at Quinn, the older woman nodded, "You as well, Captain, come along."

It should have been impossible to find any place remotely considered private, never mind _secure_, but the glowing image directed them both through the cantina and down several stairwells until they found themselves staring at a door with a multi-sensory lock system.

"Mother?"

"Step up to it, Jurhe dear. It will recognize you."

Watching mother and daughter converse was perhaps the strangest and most intriguing thing that had happened to Quinn since he had decided to join up. The sensual and dangerous Sith Lord seemed suddenly more like a young woman, like someone's daughter.

And he had slept with this particular woman's daughter.

Quinn swallowed hard, returning to the event at hand just as introductions were being made. And though he wondered whether or not to remain standing in the presence of a Sith Lords mother, he found himself unceremoniously pushed into a chair by the impatient Sith Lord herself.

"Quinn, this is my mother, Lady Jheben." Shifting on the couch, Quinn watched as Jurhe smiled and gestured to the holo, "Mother this…"

"I know who he is darling." Jheben interrupted her daughter but her tone was light, eyes knowing as she turned to look at him.

"Malavai Quinn, thirty seven years old, born in Kaas City to an Ensign Rymar Quinn and Lady Laveria Renk. Oldest of three I believe."

"Three?"

Quinn could hear Jurhe's surprise but remained focused, attention fixed, on Jheben. There was something strangely familiar about this woman, a familiarity that extended past mere resemblance to his current master.

It seemed likely he knew her from his stint in Imperial Intelligence, diplomats such as Lady Jheben were usually milling about the complex waiting for important political information before venturing to their various posts.

"Indeed." Jheben answered her daughter with an amused smile, "His younger sister is an acolyte for the prestigious Darth Occlus."

The reaction from the young Sith woman was immediate, and Quinn felt his blood stir at the growl that heated the air.

"You're talking about Florian aren't you?" Jurhe looked suddenly sullen, "You always use his 'official' name whenever you're trying to remind me to work hard."

"And _have _you been working hard my darling?"

Her mother asked the question but her tone suggested she already knew the answer. It was no unheard of for high ranking Sith to have command of formidable information networks, but there was something in the way she said it that made Quinn hesitate. The fact that his new Sith master was also the sibling of one of the Dark Council's newest members was however impossible to ignore.

"Pardon the interruption, but I find I must clarify a detail." He paused for a second as he gathered his thoughts, "You mentioned that Lord Occlus of the Dark Council is…"

"My twin brother." Jurhe responded with a small sigh.

"Her _younger _twinbrother." Lady Jheben elaborated with a small smile, "He proved to be quite strong in the force and I was able to speed his admission into the academy by some…creative diplomacy."

His Lady Sith mumbled something under her breath but allowed the comment to stand otherwise unopposed. That is, until Jurhe remembered Quinn had one more sibling to account for.

"His name is Warren, my lord." he answered the question before she ask, anticipated her curiosity with a skill he was quickly evolving to suit his survival needs.

"Younger brother?"

He sniffed, "Half-brother."

"What fun!" Jurhe looked at him curiously, "I wonder if he is as interesting as you are."

"I wouldn't know, my lord. It has been several years since I've spoken to him. We are not exactly close."

"Mother?" Jurhe looked back at the flickering image, "Anything interesting?"

The pause that follows was a terrible one. And that was when Quinn realized that somehow, someway, Lady Jheben knew more about his family than most should.

The terrible stain to his family's reputation, the black sheep, Quinn was suddenly aware that he was holding his breath, waiting for the hammer to fall. But instead the comment was deflected with the most potent of weapons, a smile.

"Of course my dear, but I believe it is best if you learn about _him _on your own."

The question seemed to be enough to assuage whatever curiosity Jurhe had scrapped together, and it was only a short time later that she bid her mother a good evening.

"Goodbye mother, I will contact you again in a few months."

And though she had refused to bow to Baras, had never even bothered to show even the slightest modicum of respect to any of the other Sith lords they had met, Jurhe did not leave her until after she had swept into a lovely bow .

"I know dear."

And with nary another word, Quinn watched at the Sith Lord swept out of the room, leaving her mother, and the holocom, in the room.

"She really is a creature of habit." The flickering image of Lady Jheben smiled for a moment, the elegant woman suddenly the very epitome of exasperated mother, "As predictable as the Moons of Drexel."

It was a common phrase among those of the Imperial Academy, both a running joke and a hint that students used to pass between one another. The three moons of Drexel, nearly identical in the sky, were impossible to tell apart except to those who had spent the time on Drexel watching them. The phrase was a hint, a lesson, to be observant and patient; the patterns and truths would eventually become apparent. Quinn had no idea if Lady Jheben understood the larger implication of her words, but he stored the information nonetheless.

"Captain?"

The light blue image of Lady Jheben, didn't so much as flicker as she called his attention a final time, "Don't let my daughter walk all over you. She may be sith, but she is a young one. I've seen your record, two decades with Imperial Intelligence is nothing to take lightly. Do us proud."

Quinn's expression dissolved to confusion, "My Lord?"

Jheben smiled but shook her head, "I'm no Sith, Captain. I'm…" She laughed then, a melodic laugh that brightened the air, "Show some nerve, Quinn. My daughter is not nearly as dangerous as you think."

Her image disappeared a moment later, leaving only a glowing insignia. And that was when the pieces fell neatly into place. A woman with the backing of a considerable intelligence network, the ghostly protector of the Empire; Jurhe's Lady Jheben was _Cipher Nine._

He stood there for a long time afterwards, contemplating the knowledge, watching the insignia until it faded. He had never quite met a woman like that particular agent save one and as he left the room to look for _that _woman Quinn couldn't help the way the corner of his mouth quirked ever so slightly.

"Quinn?"

He found her standing at the balcony overlooking the casino floor.

"Yes, my lord?"

Jurhe smiled, the green and orange lights dancing across her face as she did so. And for the first time since they had met Quinn felt steady, in control of himself.

Sith though she was, _he _was a professional.

"I told you, Captain, I have a name. Use it."

She should never have let him meet her mother; the woman had been all too informative.

Face impassive but eyes glittering, he shook his head.

"I apologize, my lord, but I must refuse. To do anything of the sort would be highly inappropriate."

It was the first time he ever made her laugh.


End file.
